


A Dose of Her Own Medicine

by sdk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: firewhiskeyfic, F/M, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage - Freeform, non-con due to being drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/pseuds/sdk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romilda gets a dose of her own medicine. Or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dose of Her Own Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Written while consuming a bottle of wine during Firewhiskey Fic March 2014. Edited for typos, but otherwise untouched. (I AM SORRY. I AM SORRY. I am depraved apparently. )

"Do you know why you've been sent to me?" Professor Snape said to Romilda. He gave her a thin wicked smile and she shivered. But she was a Gryffindor, through and through. No greasy-haired nasty hooked-nose professor would scare her. Not with just a smile, anyway. She shivered because it was cold in the dungeons and he'd already made her take off her robes and her shoes and socks, and she sat in a hard wooden chair in just a short skirt and a too-thin button-up. She'd spelled them both that way, hopeful to get a certain boy's attention. Of course she'd only gotten her greasy old professor's attention. 

"Are you incapable of speech, Ms Vane?" he said nastily. 

"No," Romilda said, frowning. 

"This is the second time you've been caught attempting to dose a fellow student with your...special chocolates. Your Head of House doesn't feel she can come up with a suitable punishment to motivate you to cease your activities. Therefore, she sent you to me."

Snape smiled again, showing his crooked yellow teeth. He was awfully damned pleased with himself, Romilda thought, but it wasn't exactly a surprise that Snape took pleasure in punishing students. This was her very first detention with him, but what could she make him do? Scrub cauldrons or organize icky ingredients? He wasn't the Potions professor any longer, but as he'd brought her to his office in the dungeons, she couldn't think of anything else. 

He moved to the side of the desk, revealing a golden rectangular box that sat at the center. Opening the lid, he offered ti to her. 

"Would you like a chocolate before we began?" 

Romilda gave him a horrified look. 

"Oh do not worry, Ms Vane. These aren't your unique creations. I made these especially for you." 

Still, Romilda shook her head. 

"No? Perhaps with something to wash them down with?" He disappeared behind his desk for a moment and returned with a goblet filled with what looked like milk. It smelled heavenly. Like a warm summer breeze and freshly cut crash and cigarette smoke. She was tempted, but she stuck her hands beneath her bottom and shook her head again. 

"You will have one of these, child," Snape said, voice cold. "The milk is dosed with Veritaserum. You drink it and then you will tell me all of your schemes to deflower the chosen one." He sneered, but there was a flash of something else behind his eyes that Romilda couldn't identify. She just knew it wasn't anything good. "Or take your chances with the chocolate." 

"Professor McGonagall will never let you get away with this," Romilda said bravely—more brave than she actually felt. A slithery laugh emitted from Snape's lips. 

"Why do you think she sent you to me, Ms Vane?" He bent over and ran the tip of one long finger over her chin. His voice dropped to a shivery whisper. "Time for a dose of your own medicine, is it not?"

"I'll take the milk!" she said desperately. She stood so fast, she knocked her chair over, and she darted around him and grabbed the goblet with both hands. It wasn't ideal, but babbling about spying on the boys shower rooms and watching Harry wank was better than being dosed with Amortentia-laced chocolates, likely designed to make her swoon at her nasty professor. Anything was better than that. 

"Drink it all," Snape said. He still sounded pleased with himself even though she had not chosen the chocolates but there was no time to think about why as she was gulping the milk down in one long swallow then licking her lips to catch the last few drops that dribbled free. 

Instantly she felt relaxed. She dropped the goblet as her arms fell to her sides. A warm heat bloomed across her chest and down to her centre. Content, warm and almost giddy. Professor Snape came into her field of vision and instantly she snapped to attention. Her whole body tingled. 

"How do you feel, Ms Vane?" He voice, silky smooth, slithered down her spine. A desperate longing suddenly filled her and she clenched her thighs together and trembled . She couldn't speak. She would terribly embarrass herself if she did. 

Professor Snape petted her hair and she leaned into his touch. She'd dreamed of a certain boy touching her, but how could she have been so foolish? It was clear she needed a man, if just a simple stroking of her hair and her cheek made her tremble so. 

"You can trust me," Snape said, and she nodded, blinking back the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes. What had she been so afraid of? Those nasty things she had thought about her Professor. She was so ashamed. 

"I'm sorry," she stammered. His thumb grazed over the corner of her mouth and her lips parted seeking his touch, but he withdrew. She whined in frustration. 

"Do you wish for me to touch you, Ms Vane?" 

"Please, " she said. There was nothing she wanted more. 

"Please, what?" he hissed and Romilda shivered everywhere. 

"Please, Sir. Please touch me." 

He immediately grabbed her breast, thumb seeking out her stiffening nipple underneath her cotton shirt. She moaned, eyes rolling back in her head. She had never felt such pleasure. Had never felt a man's hands on her. Certainly boys—there were a few she'd let feel her up, but it was nothing like Professor Snape's touch. His caress, she felt it everywhere. She clenched her thighs together again, desperate for friction. 

"Now why did you say you were sorry?" He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the stiff cotton making her skin ache. She wanted to rip off her shirt so he could touch her everywhere, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Not unless he told her to. 

"Look at me, Romilda," he said, voice suddenly stern. Her eyes snapped to his and she was lost in those black inky depths. "Tell me your sins." 

He withdrew his hand and she cried out feeling suddenly empty. His mouth formed a stern line and she wanted to cry, to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness. 

"I thought horrible things about you," she whispered. Whimpering. "I didn't mean them! I must have been hexed to think such awful things." 

He frowned and she thought she might die there, right on the spot. 

"And were you also hexed to lust after the boy hero?" 

"Who?" Romilda blinked. She shook her head. Tears ran down her face anew. "I never lusted after anyone else. No one but you, sir. Please forgive me."

A slick smile came to his lips and his eyes glittered calming her heaving breaths. 

"I forgive you," he said, and she nearly ran into his arms in happiness, but he stopped her with a hard grip on her arm. "I think you should be punished, then, don't you?" 

"Yes," she nodded eagerly. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Anything, sir. I deserve it." 

"Very well," Snape sighed, resigned. He smacked the font of the desk. "Bend over."

Romilda sniffed and took her position in front of the desk, leaning her weight on her elbows and arching her back. 

"Like this, sir?" she said, looking over her shoulder. She knew he didn't want to punish her—that he was doing this for her own good, but his crooked smile soothed her. She'd pleased him!

"Very good. Perhaps you can learn," he said, pushing up her skirt to her waist. She tucked her face back between her hands and smiled into the desk. That was until the first harsh smack of her bottom came out of nowhere. The sting jolted her whole body into the desk and she whimpered loudly. 

He pressed his hands against her buttocks, finger dipping beneath the elastic leg of her knickers for a brief trembling moment, the touch soothing her, but it was gone in a flash and he smacked her again. And again, and again. They came more quickly the longer he continued, and the harsh sting of the slap of his palm never faded. She tried to stifle her cries. She knew she deserved this, knew her professor gained no pleasure from hurting her, but it had to be done. So she'd never forget how ungrateful she'd been. 

But as the burn intensified with each smack, her skin red and sore, the ache between her legs flared, the pain giving her desire a sharp edge, and her pure need only grew. 

Suddenly he stopped. She could hear him panting behind her. 

"Have you learned you lesson, Ms Vane?" he said. His voice was raw and jagged, but it still soothed her in a way she couldn't quantify. She nodded between her hands, sniffing back her tears. 

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Very well. You may go." 

"Sir?" She straightened quickly and whirled around, not bothering to pull down her skirt or right her clothes. She knew she likely was a mess, cheeks blotchy and eyes swollen from her tears. She would be embarrassed, but she'd do anything to not be sent away, even if it meant she received another spanking. 

"Unless...would you like a chocolate now, Romilda?" 

"Oh yes, please, Professor." She sighed happily and her professor gave her a twisted smile when she popped the first delicious chocolate into her mouth. 

When he approached her, petting her hair again, fingers grazing her cheek, she knew: she was the luckiest witch of them all.


End file.
